


silence is a scary sound

by afangirldaydreams



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Character Study, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I know Travis said Fjord didn't have PTSD but I'm ignoring that, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Torture, Trauma, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:42:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22990429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afangirldaydreams/pseuds/afangirldaydreams
Summary: After being taken by the Iron Shepherds and later rescued by the Mighty Nein, being in complete silence brings back too many unbearable memories for Fjord.
Relationships: Fjord/Jester Lavorre
Comments: 1
Kudos: 89





	silence is a scary sound

They were back with the group, safe for the moment. No dangers, no missions, just a few days to wind down in Zadash before going south to the Menagerie Coast. It was nice to sleep in a real bed and have a real roof over their heads every once in a while. They had more money now to spend on nicer things; they could buy whatever they wanted for the next leg of their journey without having to worry too much. It was a nice feeling, well, it would be even nicer if it hadn’t come accompanied by the effects of what went through in the last week or so. First, they were separated, then Molly… they all were in need of some time to get their heads together.

Fjord watched more attentively from then on, and he noticed that even though she kept being her usual Jester-self, the mischievous glint that had always made her wide eyes spark had dimmed down significantly, and he felt an ache deep in his heart whenever her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. They had told the group the gist of what happened, but there were some things that were unspeakable. Their eyes had met in a silent agreement the moment they were rescued that some events should just remain a secret – well, not really a secret per se, but everyone was already suffering enough with Molly’s death, they didn’t need to add to their sadness. And while he was paying more attention to Jester, Fjord saw himself struggling with his feelings and thoughts afterward.

Before, he enjoyed the silence. When he was at sea, he loved going to the deck in the middle of the night and just listening to the crash of the waves, silence everywhere around him apart from that. The silence used to be comforting. Now it was deafening. Constraining. Imprisoning. Sometimes he didn’t know if it was completely silent out there or if he was under attack again, not being able to speak or really hear anything. At night, when the others went to sleep, he started staying in the tavern until he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore and only then go to his bedroom. A Molly-less bedroom. A silent bedroom. He started sleeping with his window open, to let in some noise from the streets, and he found it help him a little, it calmed him down enough to be able to relax and fall asleep.

He noticed his body started to shake and his heart beat faster if there was only silence after a while, and he found himself picking up the habit of tapping something with either his fingers or foot to create – and maintain – a steady source of noise. Perhaps he could ask Caleb if he had any sort of spell that could help him be in peace while not being entirely too quiet… or maybe, even better, he could go to The Invulnerable Vagrant and ask Pumat Sol Prime for an enchanted object to do such a thing. But he would go alone. The group didn’t need to worry about him, he kept repeating to himself. They had enough on their plates. He was fine. He _was fine, goddamnit_.

Until he wasn’t.

He was walking by himself in Zadash while the others went shopping when he saw a half-elf woman and his mind immediately was transported to that dark place and _that_ half-elf, almost collapsing right there on the street. The woman he saw was nothing like Ruzza, but the pointed ears and that high poise still sent him spiraling into an alleyway and it took him a good few minutes until he could actually breathe without hyperventilating and feeling a weight pressing down onto his chest. _She_ had used the sleeping magic mostly on Yasha, as she kept raging and resisting and almost breaking the manacles, and sleep was the way they found to control her.

And then he remembered the way they found to control him, to truly start to break him piece by piece: Jester. They found the easiest way to control him and make him accept what was done to him was to hurt Jester. But they went for Yasha first, the strongest and wildest of them, which was why she was being kept in a separate cage. They went for him next and he resisted the best he could do until they noticed his eyes kept shifting to the small fierce blue form on the corner of the room, who was also attempting to get loose, screaming behind her gag with rage in her eyes. The small guy, Protto, as he heard the others call him, approached her and called out for Ruzza, and they managed to take her out of his field of vision. He protested, trying to get free, worried about what they were going to do to her. He heard as they talked quietly, and suddenly he couldn’t hear anything anymore. He noticed there was some kind of bubble over and around him, and it felt familiar: this is what they must have done to take them that night in the forest. The same burly guy who had been hitting him approached and put something over his eyes, now blocking most of his senses. He could no longer see the blows coming, only feel them forcefully impacting his body, soundless screams coming out of his mouth. _Jester can’t hear me, it’s fine_ , he thought. It was better this way.

Sometime after his body was pummeled within an inch of his life because he refused to give in, to give up on his resistance, he woke up in a cell with Jester. She had only a small cut on her lip, so they either didn’t do much to her or she managed to heal herself. And then he noticed they had no gags on, and a tray on the floor near them with some sort of mush on a bowl. He scooted over to her, trying to wake her up.

“Jester, come on, wake up,” he said.

She quickly opened her eyes and was about to lash out when she realized she was back with Fjord.

“Fjord, no… what did they do to you?” She asked but didn’t wait for an answer, “Here, let me heal you, they took off my manacles.” She put her hands on him and he felt a warmth passing through his body as she cured his wounds.

“What about yourself, Jester? Are you hurt? What did they do to you?”

She smiled softly, “Oh, nothing much, I’m fine. I’ll save my healing, I don’t need it now.” Her smile was reassuring, but she could see he was still worried. “My lip is the worst, Fjord, I swear, I’m fine. Here, let’s eat.”

But before she could do anything else, someone slammed the door to their cell open and a couple of guys entered.

“So you are indeed a healer, huh? Just as suspected. Chain her up, boys.” The small man ordered while he pointed a sword at Fjord’s neck. “And you, don’t try any funny business.”

He was helpless as the other two chained Jester’s hands behind her back and put a gag over her mouth again. He should’ve known, Fjord thought, it was too good to be true. Was everything a test?

The second day their captors worked on starting to break their minds. However, since Fjord had been healed, they started with the beating again, compensating for the lack of expected bruises. He found himself sighing in relief when the work on his mind started, giving his physical body a break from the torture. It was not as bad, but the more they tortured him the more he thought he was never getting out of that situation. The Mighty Nein wouldn’t come for him. Maybe they would come for Jester, they all loved her, and Molly would certainly fight for Yasha, but who would rescue _him_?

Somehow whoever was hurting him noticed that he was beginning to resign himself to his fate. And then they brought in the big guns: they hurt Jester in front of him. The more he trashed against his bindings the harder they hit her, the harder they worked magic on her mind. He fought and tried to claw his way out, but he was too tired to even summon his falchion; he finally noticed that the moment he went slack they stopped hurting her. And so Protto learned the cycle to work him: start with a beating, make him resist and contort until someone brought the small blue figure in the room, and then he would go limp and accept whatever was done to him. As he accepted the torture, they also noticed the hope slowly vanishing from his eyes. But it was fine; Jester was not being hurt as much, and he could take it. He would take it to protect her, he had a promise to fulfill.

That second night, Fjord dreamed. The previous nights he’d held on for as long as he could, but the exhaustion of the fear, the attempts to resist the torture, the guilt that was slowly beginning to consume him for letting them be taken under his watch was too consuming, and it didn’t take long for him to fall asleep. It had been a while since he had any dreams, it had been nice, peaceful even. But of course, now that his mind was under constant duress, it was the perfect opening for the dreams to begin again. He dreamed of the fire that consumed the ship, and he could almost smell it. _Patience_ , the voice said, echoing in his ears, twice. _Patience_. He dreamed of the shipwreck, of being lost under the vast dimension of the dark sea, a similar sensation to the helplessness he was feeling now. He dreamed of the shipwreck, but when he usually was free to try swim to the surface, this time he had manacles around his wrists and ankles, his body slowly sinking to the bottom, no chance to swim up. Desperation ran through him, trying to move the best he could, but to no avail. He was slow under the heavy water. He was slow. Too slow. Too slow to even notice there were people approaching them _that_ night. When he woke up, it was to a mouthful of salty water, choking through his gag, no real escape for it this time, alerting Jester that something was wrong. She looked at him with fear in her eyes, his body convulsing, some water spilling out of his nose, and he felt like he was drowning all over again. She huddled close to his body, trying to give him some kind of comfort, of reassurance that everything would be fine, they would get out of this. She wanted to scream for him not to give up, but she saw his resignation the moment it went through his body and he started to take everything they were doing without resistance. The least she could do was to press her shoulder against his much larger body and hope and pray to the Traveller for safety. She had no doubts in her mind that their friends would come and rescue them soon.

As days went by with this routine, to be very honest, Fjord lost track of time. He didn’t have Caleb’s insane ability of always knowing what time it was, and being blindfolded, gagged, and tied up didn’t help him in figuring out how much time had passed since they had been taken. He later understood it was all part of the Iron Shepherds’ plan. The blindfolds during transportation were the beginning of the torture; it was meant to start to break and weaken their minds, not knowing for how long they had been gone, not knowing when or if their friends or family would come for them. Some evenings, however, Ruzza would create the bubble and they couldn’t hear each other, and Fjord would sit awake, alert and trying to pay attention to his surroundings.

And so he discovered he had stuck with that habit, even now in a safe place with his friends around him. Whenever it was too quiet in the inn at night, he would sit up and stay alert, working on his perception of the smallest sounds and movements outside his door. And it was with this increased sense of his environment that he went up to the door to his bedroom before he even heard the gentle knock on his door. He summoned his weapon and hid it behind his body, but quickly relaxed and sent it back to whatever dimension it stayed in when he saw Jester on the other side of the threshold. It was strange seeing her this timid and sheepish-looking. 

“So I was trying to sleep and Beau was snoring too loudly and I was cold and I couldn’t fall asleep and…”

“Jester, breathe,” he tried to calm her down, “come in.” He made space for her to enter the room and closed the door. “I… I’m having… trouble to sleep too.”

Her eyes widened in acknowledgment and she bit her lip briefly before saying in a voice so quiet he almost didn’t hear it, “I hated that place and it's nice to have a bed again but… I kinda miss sleeping next to you.”

“Do you want to sleep with me then?” He asked and quickly added upon seeing her eyebrows wiggle up and down, “Not in a weird or sexual way”. But there she was. The old Jester was still in there.

They got into bed and she scooted closer to him while they were still sitting up, pressing her shoulder to his, just like they used to do in the cell, finding comfort in a position so familiar to both of them by now. Their bodies relaxed against each other, finally able to go to sleep.

“Fjord… we’ll be okay, right?” she asked in a quiet voice.

“Yes, Jess. We’ll be okay. Maybe not today, but eventually. We’ll be just fine.” He sighed, pressing his shoulder even more against hers, and with the small sounds coming from out of the window, he was finally able to rest in a dreamless slumber.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it ♥


End file.
